“At what hour did the telephone call reach you?”
“At eight minutes past eight o’clock yesterday morning. I was in Police Headquarters and took the message myself,” tersely.
“At what hour did you reach Miss Baird’s home?”
“Fifteen minutes later. I took O’Bryan, a plain clothes man, and Patrolman Myers with me.”
“Tell us what you found when you reached the Baird house,” Coroner Penfield directed, settling back in his chair. Conscious that he had the undivided attention of every one in the crowded room, Mitchell spoke with slow impressiveness.
“We went up the front steps of the house and rang the bell; not getting any response we rang several times. I was just thinking that we had better try the back entrance when O’Bryan saw the key in the front door—”
“Wait.” Penfield held up his hand. “Do I understand that the key to the front door was left in the lock on the outside in plain view of every passer-by?”
“It wasn’t exactly in plain view,” protested Mitchell. “We didn’t see it at once, and the sidewalk is some distance from the house, which stands on a high terrace. Passers-by could not see the key in the lock unless they ran up the steps and stood in the vestibule of the front door.”
“Was the door locked?”
“Yes, Sir.”